Vox  ex  Vinculis. 


QUEEN  OF  THE  LOBBY 


AN    INCIDENT    IN    ONE   ACT. 


BY     6b>AIF(     DUBOIS 


NEW     YORK,     18Q6. 


Vox  ex  Vinculis. 


QUEEN  OF  THE  LOBBY 


AN   INCIDENT   IN   ONE  ACT. 


l^UK 

S  U U, t,  J  -P  j 


BY     ebAIR     G> 


UBOIS. 


NEW     YORK,    18G6. 


•1 

.C3 


Bancroft  Library 


QUEEN  OF  THE  LOBBY. 


Characters   Represented . 

GUY  DEVLIN,  a  Millionaire. 
MR.   EUSTACE,  of  California. 
THIMBLE, 
STRADDLE, 


BUNCUM, 


Congressmen. 


DODO, 

SULLEN, 

DOMINGO,  a  Colored  Servant. 

LA  BARONNE  de  la  MUSCADINE. 

MARCELLE,  a  Maid. 


All  Sights  Reserved. 


QUEEN   OF  THE  LOBBY. 


Scene:  An  elegant  room  in  a  Washington  Hotel 
l\rar  door  gires  on  to  a  hall;  door  to  L.  leads  to 
a  prirati'  room;  second  door  to  L.  a  stairway; 
door  to  R.  a  "Ht-udy"  or  Library;  a  desk  also  to 
l\. — hehrcen  it  and  the  wall  a  chair,  and  a  screen 
concealing  a  safe.  Chairs,  sofa,  etc.  As  curtain 
rises,  Domingo  and  MarccUe  enter — the  latter 
reading  a  letter. 

Mar.  No  mistake,  Monsieur  Domingo.  Here  is 
an  ordaire  from  Madame  for  you  to  prepare  one 
grand  suppaire  in  No.  16,  after  twelve  o'clock  to- 
night. 

Doni.  Twelve  o'clock.  That  means  Avashiug 
the  dishes  at  sunrise.  I  would  like  to  be  able  to 
go  to  bed  before  three  in  the  morning  for  once, 
just  to  see  how  it  feels  to  sleep  in  the  dark. 

Mar.  Madame  indeed  do  lead  everybody  one 
lively  "train."  I  wonder  why  she'have  so  much 
"societe." 

Doni.  Because  she  is  a  lady  of  quality,  no 
doubt. 

Mar.  (J  Halite — by  marriage  seulement,  She 
was  one  ordinary  Americaine  till  she  epousait  the 
Baron  de  la  Muscadine,  who  left  her  after  spend- 
ing all  her  "monaie." 


6 


A,'// /rr  Thhnble. 

Dont.  But  lie  couldn't  spend  her  wits,  for, 
thanks  to  them,  she  is  rich  again,  and  can  afford 
a  Duke  the  next  time.  Moses 

r/'Ii  int.  I  hope  I  don't  intrude,  but  may  I  ask  if 
this  is  the  apartment  of  the  Baronness  de  la  Mus- 
cadine? 

Dom.     It  is,  but  the  lady  is  out  at  present. 

Thim.     How  unfortunate — you  won't  mind  if  I 
remain    till  she  comes  in.     I'll  make    myself  per- 
fectly comfortable  in  this  easy-chair — looking  over 
the  pictures  in  these  albums.     Don't  be  uneasy— 
the  furniture  will  be  safe. 

Mar.     Vat  a  drole  man. 

Dom.     That's  not  a  man,  but  a  Congressman. 

Mar.     Vat  is  a  Congressman? 

Dom.  An  individual  \vho  may  have  been  a  man 
before  he  got  to  Congress.  For  all  he  says,  you 
keep  an  eye  on  this  room  whilst  I  am  getting  up 
that  supper. 

Mar.     I  vill,  and  a  cat's  eye  at  zat.         [Exeunt.] 

Thim.  [Kixhif/  */>n////---/u*x/>a/  a  note.]  A  note 
— delightfully  perfumed — and  the  words,  "come 
and  see  me  to-night,  after  the  Opera."  It  has  but 
one  meaning — I  have  made  a  mash  on  the  bright- 
est woman  in  Washington.  Pitiful,  but  not 
strange — I  have  always  been  a  regular  cyclone 
among  the  ladies. 

I'] ntcr  titruddlc — [K<uli<ut1,  and  (in  fantastically 
dressed.] 

Mrad.  [Reading  a  note.]  "Meet  me  this  even- 
ing, after"  [Da  nee*  in  del  it/lit.]  Hurrah!  De- 


licious!  I  saw  it  coming  for  some  time,  however — 
when  I  got  up  to  speak  yesterday  in  the  House 
she  sniggered.  Why  should  she  snigger?  To  con- 
ceal the  tumult  I  excited  in  her  soul.  Oh,  Strad- 
dle, Straddle,  you  are  a  primrose.  By  all  that's 
hideous — 

Tit  int.     Straddle! 

Strad.     Thimble! 

Tliiin.     This  is  a  surprise. 

Strad.     Not  altogether  a  pleasant  one. 

Till  in.     I  agree  with  you. 

Mnnl.     What  are  you  doing  here? 

Till  in.  That  is  the  very  question  I  was  going 
to  ask  you. 

strud.  Come  now,  I  hope  you'll  listen  to  reason. 
I  have  business  with  the  Baronness. 

Tin  in.     So  have  I. 

tftrud.     Mine's  important. 

Th  iui.     Mine  is  more  so. 

N//v/(/.  It  could  not  be.  I  do  not  wish  to  argue, 
but  I've  evidence  that  when  her  ladyship  arrives 
your  presence  will  be  an  impertinence.  [Sliwr# 
note.]  What  do  you  say  to  that? 

Thiin.  \Asidc.]  A  note,  perfumed — word  for 
word  with  my  own— 

N/rw/.     This  closes  the  debate,  doesn't  it? 

Tliiin.     I  must  owrn  I  am  at  a  loss — to— 

N//v/<7.  Why,  it  is  as  clear  as  moonshine — the 
Baronness  is  quite  susceptible,  and  as  her  opinion 
of  me  is  that  of  my  looking-glass — 

Enter  Buncuni. 
Jttui.     [dJccfuJJi/.]     "From    the  icy   minarets   of 


8 


Alaska  to  the  emerald  everglades   of  Florida"- 
[Dances  against  Straddle  and  Thimble.]     Perdition! 

Thim.     We  re-echo  the  sentiment. 

/>////.  Excuse  me — I  did  not  expect  to  find  any- 
one here. 

Strad.  And  we  did  not  expect  to  be  inter- 
rupted. 

Bun.  Sorry — but  the  interruption  is  none  of  iny 
creating. 

Thim.  You  would  have  some  difficulty  to  prove 
it. 

Bun.  I  think  not — a  lady  is  generally  mistress 
in  her  own  house. 

Strad.     1  fail  to  see  the  connection. 

Bun.  As  mistress  in  her  own  house,  she  has  a 
right  to  select  her  own  guests. 

Thim.     That  is  self-evident. 

Bun.  Well,  in  this  instance  it  happens  I  am  a 
selected  guest — in  fact,  the  selected  guest.  When 
I  show  you  my  credentials,  1  hope  an  appeal  to 
your  delicacy  will  be  a  sufficient  intimation  I  con- 
sider you  in  the  way.  [Shoics  his  note.] 

Strad.     [Fnrious.]     Well,  I'll  be— 

Thim.     [Aside.]     Worse  and  worse. 

Strad.     What  can  this  signify? 

Bint.  I  can't  say,  really.  All  I  know  is,  the 
lady  has  continental  ideas,  and  as  I  have  always 
been  a  perfect  torpedo  where  the  sex  is  con- 
cerned— 

Enter  Marcellc. 

Mar.     Madame  la  Baron e.  [Exit.] 

Bun.     [Very    airy.']     Ah  !    Ah  !     [Straddle    and 


9 

Thimble  <jo  to  om'  xide  discomfited  <tn<l  sympathize 
one  another.     l-'nter  flu-  ISaronneM — hi  opera 
— trading  a  h'li'urani.     ^he  /.v  r/ks-or/wW,  and  xrr.s-  tin 

one.] 

/far.  "Accident — delay — will  not  be  able  to 
reach  Washington  before  midnight — Guy  Devlin." 
How  provoking.  Matters  critical,  and  I  so  need 
his  assistance — [dhniccx  at  flic  rlork.]  One  hour  to 
wait — Ah!  the  tenderloins  are  here — let  me  put 
that  hour  to  good  use.  ffibUrt&iies.]  Gentlemen. 

Hun.     Your  servants,  Baronness. 

Bar.  I  am  sorry  I. did  not  see  you  before.  You 
received  the  notes? 

Yes,    I    received    flic    note.     Here    it    is. 
to    the    other*]   Excuse    yourselves    and    go. 
Can't  you  take  a  hint? 

Bar.     And  you  two? 

*s7/v/f/.     Here  is  mine.  [Itnncinn  *l<iii<ierx.\ 

Tlihn.     And  mine.  [tftratlille  m7*.] 

liar.  This  is  well.  Now,  if  the  others  were 
here— 

Bun.     Others! 

liar.  Yes,  I  expect  Sullen  and  Dodo  yet.  It 
is  unfortunate  they  should  delay.  We  cannot 
proceed  without  them.  However,  you  won't  ob- 
ject waiting  till  they  come.  You  will  find  news- 
papers and  games  to  amuse  you,  there  in  my 
study. 

Thhn.  Have  you  any  idea  when  Sullen  and 
Dodo  will  be  here? 

liar.  [CatrlcMlif.]  Oh,  yes,  some  time  between 
now  and  morning. 

TUm.     I'll  be  blessed— 


10 


Strud.     For  cheek  unvarnished— 

Bim.     Oh,  these  women,  these  women— 

[All  three  exeunt  into  the  study  in  great  rage.] 

Bar.  A  good  pen  for  the  cattle.  Now  let  me 
see — let  me  see. — I  declare,  I  believe  that  window 
is  open — [Goc-s  and  looks  oat.]  How  grand  the 
Capitol  looks  in  the  distance.  Grand,  indeed— 
once  the  temple,  but  fast  becoming  the  Mauso- 
leum of  the  Kepublio.  And  the  stars — how 
brightly  they  are  shining.  Perhaps  my  little 
Natalie,  in  her  convent  home,  is  looking  up  at 
them  now,  and  wondering  who — who  her  mother 
is.  [Closes  icindow,  comes  aicay — takes  off  her  bon- 
net, cloak,  etc]  My  Natalie.  I  have  no  right  to 
think  of  3^011 — for  I  have  ceased  to  have  a  heart.— 
Marcelle! 

Enter  Marcelle. 

Mar.     Madame! 

Bar.  Take  these  wraps  and  put  them  away. 
[Exit  Marcelle,  but  returns  in  a  short  while.  Baron- 
ness  looks  over  visiting  cards  on  the  table]  I  notice 
here  one  card — Mr.  Eustace,  of  California.  When 
did  he  call? 

Mar.  About  an  hour  after  Madame  left  for  ze 
"Theatre." 

Bar.     Did  he  leave  any  word? 

Mar.     Yes,  Madame — that  he  would  call  again. 

Bar.     When? 

Mar.     To-night. 

Bar.  [Aside.]  Oh,  this  Puritan  !  I  wonder 
what  his  business  is.  I  gravely  suspect  it  relates 
to  the  Grinding  Bill.  Steps?  Marcelle. 

Mar.     It  is  one  more,  Monsieur — 


11 

V  liter  tin  He  n. 

Bar.  Ah! — that  will  do  for  the  present.  [Exit 
Mum-He,  tritli  more  irrfi^.]  Mr.  Sullen,  this  is  a 
pleasure. 

Knl.  [He  /.v  thin,  irtiite,  <iit(/iil(ir,  irith  <t  dnrk,  /<>//*/, 
fierce  nionxtiidie.]  You  can  play  your  part  to  per- 
fection. 

Jtitr.     Sour  humor  to-day. 

tinh     (lood  reason. 

l*<ir.     Why? 

tin  I.     I  don't  like  bad  treatment. 

Bar.     Neither  should  I. 

tint.     Then  why  do  you  inflict  it? 

ttur.     Sullen! 

ti-nh     I  got  your  note. 

K<ir.     It  made  you  mad? 

tinL  It  threw  me  into  raptures.  I  kissed  it — I 
hugged  it — I  danced  about  the  room.  But  sud- 
denly the  floor  of  my  heaven  gave  way — a  knock 
came  to  the  door.  Who  do  you  think  it  was? 

!><tr.     No  idea. 

8ul.     Dodo. 

Jtnr.     I  sympathize  with  you. 

tiiih  Now  if  there's  anybody  I  despise,  it  is 
Dodo. 

liar.     That  shows  your  good  sense. 

tiuh     That  was  bad  enough. 

liar.     It  could  hardly  be  worse. 

tilth     But  judge  of  my  horror — when  he  began 
to  racket  about  as  I  had  been  doing,  and  ended  up 
by  showing  me — 
What? 
Also  a  note  from  vou. 


12 

Bar.     Oh!  he  got  his  then — I  am  so  glad. 

HI,I.     [Pr&teMJ]    Glad! 

liar.     Yes!   I  hope  you  brought  him  along. 

Xn1.     No,  he  came  along. 

Bar.     Where  is  he? 

N///.     Down  stairs — in  the  bar-room. 

Bur.  I  might  have  known  that — I'll  send  for 
him. 

8ul.  No  you  won't — [PrcrciiCnni  licr] — Not  at 
least  till  I  know  what  you  meant  by— 

Bar.  The  letters — the  explanation  is  simple.  I 
notified  five  eminent  Congressmen  to  come  here 
this  evening  and  consult  with  me  on  an  important 
bit  of  legislation.  Dodo  and  yourself  were  of  the 
number — that  is  all. 

tfiil.     So  others  are  expected  here  too! 

Bar.     They  are  here  already. 

tfiil.  You  meant  nothing  of  a  more  tender  na- 
ture— you  did  not  intend  to  convey  the  fact — I  had 
impressed  you — that  you  were  ready  to  welcome 
my  attentions — that  you — you— 

Rar.     [Haughtily.]     Sir! 

8nl  No  use  to  pose  like  that — you  deceitful 
woman — pretend  to  say  you  never  encouraged  me 
—that  you  never  smiled  when  I  passed — never 
squeezed  my  hand  when  we  met — never  kicked 
my  foot  under  the  table?  1  can  bring  witnesses 
to  prove  what  I  say.  Everybody  has  remarked 
your  leaning  towards  me — my  friends  have  been 
chaffing  me  about  it,  even — much  as  I  have  been 
able  to  do  to  keep  it  out  of  the  newspapers. 

Bar.  Silly  man!  There  must  be  2,000  fools  in 
Washington  this  minute,  who  imagine  they  have 
the  same  complaint  to  make  as  yourself. 


Sul.  Yes,  but  1  am  oue  of  the  fools  who  have 
taken  you  seriously,  and  I  don't  propose— 

liar.  [Tapping  him-  icilh  a  fan.]  Poor  fellow! 
do  you  love  me,  then? 

Sul.     [FaUinij  on  <nn  kn<('.\     Oh!    Barouness. 

Har.  I  must  forbid  this — carpets  are  expen- 
sive. Besides,  there  is  another  objection  to  my 
listening  to  any  advances  of  this  kind. 

Sul.     Which  is— 

Har.     You  are  a  married  man. 

Snl.     What  difference  should  that  make? 

Hat:  Thank  you  for  your  nice  opinion  of  me. 
A  great  deal  of  difference.  I  have  been  a  pretty 
black  sheep,  and  have  broken  all  the  command- 
ments, I  confess,  except — 

Sul.     What? 

Har.     The  one- in  the  middle. 

Sat.     If  that  be  all  that  divides  us— 

Har.     Oh,  but  there  is  another  obstacle,  still. 

Sul.      For  example— 

Har.  You  could  never  support  a  fifty -thousand 
dollar  woman  on  a  five  thousand  dollar  salary. 

Sul.      HOAV  do  you  know  I  couldn't? 

Har.  Because  you  can  hardly  support  yourself 
on  it.  Let  us  see — you  owe  |60.17  to  your  laun- 
dress, |133.05  to  your  tailor,  two  months'  rent  at 
the  Arlington — and  to  cap  the  climax,  you  have 
just  put  a  four  thousand  dollar  mortgage  on  the 
only  property  you  possess  in  the  world — your 
farm  at  home. 

SHJ.     Are  you  the  devil,  or  what? 

Har.  No — only  Mr.  Dun  or  Mr.  Bradstreet,  in 
a  Court-train. 


14 


A  ml  after  breaking  my  heart,  you  mean 
to  avail  yourself  of  the  knowledge  you  have 
gained  of  my  private  affairs,  to  humiliate  me. 

Bar.  Tut,  tut,  tut — no  such  stuff  in  my 
thoughts —  I  only  wanted  to  show  you  the  depth 
to  which  you  have  sunk,  that  you  may  better  ap- 
preciate the  height  to  which  you  may  rise.  I  in- 
tend, my  friend,  to  make  you  a  large  sum  of 
money. 

S-itL     [tiro spiny  her  hand  eagerly.]     Money? 

Bar.     Here  is  Marcelle — no  agitation — Well? 

Enter  Marcelle. 

Mar.     Mr.  Eustass — de  la  Californie— 

Bar.  Admit  him  at  once — and,  Marcelle,  you 
may  tell  the  gentlemen  in  the  study  I  am  now  at 
their  service.  [EM  Marcelle.] 

tinl.     You  are  incomprehensible. 

Bar.  You  shall  soon  understand  all — be  pa- 
tient, [Moves  up,  and  for  awhile  disappears.] 

Sul.  I  suppose  I  must  submit — but,  plague 
take  it — I  feel  like  a  barrel  of  dynamite  that  is 
itching  to  blow  up  and  destroy  everybody  and 
everything  in  sight. 

Enter  from  the  Study,  Thunlfle,  Straddle,  and 
Bunciun. 

Thim.     Here  we  are  again. 

Strn-d.     Here  we  are — and  there  is  Sullen. 

Bun.     And  yonder  comes  Dodo. 

Thim.     Followed  by  Eustace. 

Strad.     The  plot  begins  to  thicken. 


15 


Knlcr  Dodo  —  then 

Do.  How  do  you  do,  friends  —  how  do  you  do, 
everybody.  Evidently  there  will  be  a  quorum  to- 
night. Mrs.  Baronness  —  Madame  La  Baronne,  T 
should  say— 

Bar.     Mr.  Dodo— 

Do.  I  couldn't  wait  for  Sullen  any  longer.  He 
was  to  come  first  and  let  me  know  the  purport  of 
the  notes,  but  as  he  didn't  return- 

is*  uf.     True  —  I  had  forgotten  about  you,  Dodo. 

Bar.  We  understand,  Mr.  Dodo,  you  did  right 
to  come  up  without  ceremony  —  you  will  be  greatly 
needed  here  this  evening.  [Turning  and  holdina 
out  her  hand.]  Mr.  Eustace,  your  pardon  for  not 
being  here  earlier  in  the  evening  to  receive  you. 

/•Jtixl.  And  yours,  Baronness,  for  calling  at  so 
unreasonable  an  hour  the  second  time.  If  I  had 
known  you  were  going  to  have  friends  here  — 

Bar.  Is  your  business  anything  you  would  hesi- 
tate to  state  before  these  gentlemen? 

/<;/(*/.  On  the  contrary  —  it  relates  to  a  public 
matter  about  to  come  before  the  House,  in  which 
they,  as  well  as  the  whole  country,  are  interested. 

Bar.  Then  I  am  sure  we  would  all  be  pleased 
—{AH  w///  y/r.s',  yes]  —  but  first  let  us  make  ourselves 
more  at  home.  [Motions  each  to  an  appropriate 
seat.] 

Do.  [tfhoirin</  ((  ciaar.]  Will  you  permit  me, 
Baronness? 

Bar.  With  pleasure  —  I  like  the  smoke  of  a 
good  cigar.  Wrait  —  allow  me  to  give  you  a  light. 

Bun.      Humph!    Wish  I  had  a  cigar. 


16 

Bar.  [Settling  hcrwlf  itt  a  conspicuous  chair.] 
Now,  Mr.  Eustace,  we  are  at  your  orders. 

Eust.  To  be  brief,  Baronness,  I  come  to  you  as 
a  supplicant.  Everyone  is  aware  of  the  vast  in- 
fluence you  wield  at  Washington,  and  it  is  that 
influence  I  wish  to  interest  against  the  most  merci- 
less and  fiendish  scheme  of  robbery  that  ever— 
ever— 

Bar.  [Frigidly.]  Mr.  Eustace,  I  regret  your  re- 
marks have  taken  this  turn.  I  tell  you  frankly, 
and  without  circumlocution,  your  appeal  to  me 
will  be  in  vain.  I  am  already  engaged  to  promote, 
not  to  oppose,  the  passage  of  the  "Grinding  Bill." 

Eust.     How  did  you  know— 

Sul.     [Aside.]     Humph!    What  don't  she  know? 

Bar.  From  the  moment  you  opened  your  lips  I 
knew  what  was  to  follow.  It  is  a  pity  a  man  of 
your  lights  and  attainments  should  take  the  side 
of  the  mob  on  this  great  question. 

Eust.  Do  you  know,  Madame,  what  the  "Grind- 
ing Bill"  means? 

Bar.  Simply  this — a  troop  of  banditti  have 
been  gutting  all  the  country  between  the  Missouri 
River  and  your  State  for  twenty-five  years,  and 
the  purpose  of  the  bill  is  to  enable  them  to  con- 
tinue their  depredations  for  a  hundred  more. 

Eust.  And  do  you  think  they  should  be  armed 
with  so  atrocious  a  privilege? 

Bar.  I  am  not  dealing  in  abstractions  this 
evening. 

Eust.  Twenty-five  hundred  thousand  men  once 
rose  to  free  four  million  colored  slaves  in  the 
South — and  are  we  now  to  vainly  beg  for  a  few 


17 


niggardly  votes  to  deliver  ten  million  white  men 
in  the  North  and  West? 

Bar.  Oh,  Eustace,  you  are  beginning  to  tire 
me.  All  you  say  is  good  sentiment,  but  poor  poli- 
tics. 

l\nst.  And  I  answer,  the  politics  that  justify 
the  plundering  of  the  people — the  polluting  of 
Courts,  the  debauching  of  newspapers,  and  the 
roiTiipting  of  Legislatures,  is  something  that 
rou Id  have  come  only  from  the  infernal  pit — and 
will  one  day  be  washed  from  the  face  of  the  earth 
in  torrents  of  guilty  blood— 

ttur.     I  have  no  such  doleful  apprehensions. 

Kiivt.  People  did  not  believe  in  the  deluge  till 
they  were  drowned  in  its  waters. 

/><//•.  Deluges,  my  dear  man,  are  obsolete.  I 
have  something  in  this  receptacle  will  prove  my 
case  better  than  words,  [tihe  Jut*  troubh  in  morlmj 
the  screen.  Mullen  .V/C/M-  for  mini  to  </**/*/.] 

Will  you  permit  me?  [He  moves  it.] 

\TnT\lnij  a  i-hei-l'-book  nut  of  tlie  safe — before 
I  In    tloor  /-v  r/o.sr</,   Sullen  </r/\  n  /><  r/>     into    tin    safe.'] 
I  have  what  I  want. 

f.l.s/Vr,  utixphig.]     Bank-notes  by  the  arm- 
ful. 

Bar.     Do  you  know  what  this  is? 

Vust.     A  check-book. 

Jtar.  The  aegis  that  makes  us  invulnerable  to 
all  the  horrors  your  morbid  imagination  conjures 
up.  Gentlemen,  Mr.  Eustace  has  precipitated  the 
issue.  It  is  time  to  throw  off  the  mask,  and  to  de- 
clare the  motives  I  had  in  bringing  you  here.  I 
require  your  assistance  to  pass  the  "Grinding 
Bill,"  and  I  want  to  know  if  I  may  depend  upon  it? 


18 


Thim.    The  question  is  rather  abrupt. 

Do.  Not  at  all.  I  don't  see  how  it  could  have 
been  put  otherwise. 

Strad.  You  have  had  the  best  of  the  argument, 
"Madame." 

Do.     By  far. 

Thim.  But  the  trouble  is—  you  have  been 
hardly  explicit  enough. 

Do.     [Protesting.]     My  dear  sir — 

Bar.  If  I  signed  a  million  to  every  one  of  these 
leaves  I  Avould  need  a  new  check-book  to  reach  the 
millions  still  in  reserve  behind  me. 

Thim.  That  may  all  be—but  what  does  it  avail 
a  man  perishing  of  thirst  on  the  desert  to  be  told 
there  is  an  ocean  of  fresh  water  in  Lake  Superior? 

Bar.     Well,  if  each  of  you  that  may  be  now  per- 
ishing  of  thirst   will    bring   his   pitcher   to   this 
table- 
Do.     You  will  fill  it  with  water—? 

Bar.     Fresh  from  Lake  Superior. 

Do.     At  how  much  a  pitcher? 

Bar.  [Always  in  a  business  manner.]  Two  thou- 
sand dollars.  [All  protest] 

Thim.     Madame! 

Strad.     You  are  frank  to  brutality. 

Do.     Even  I  am  disgusted. 

8u1.     Is  this  the  windfall  you  promised  me? 

Bun.     Two  thousand  dollars. 

Do.  It  wouldn't  keep  a  statesman  in  tooth- 
picks. 

Strati.     The  offer  is  an  insult. 

Bar.  [Always  writing  with  her  eyes  intent  on  her 
irork.]  I  am  ready  to  apologize  by  raising  the  fig- 
ure to  live  thousand. 


19 

Tliun.  The  figure — I  mean  the  apology — is  in- 
sufficient. 

titi'dfl.     (irossly  inadequate. 

Do.     1  don't  know  about  that. 

/> a H.     Five  thousand  is  a  neat  sum. 

Do.     I  never  did  believe  in  being  a  hog. 

ttnn.  I  am  certain  the  Baronness  Avants  to  do 
what  is  fair. 

Bar.  So  fair — that  as  I  see  some  of  you  are  dis 
satisfied,  I  am  ready  to  go  as  high  as  $7,500. 

Sul.     Where  is  my  hat? 

Tlii in.     We  are  beyond  temptation. 

Do.     Now,  gentlemen— 

Hid.     Let  us  go— 

x/y</</.     [Heroically.]     Yes,  let  us  go. 

Thl in.     [UV</Ary/ /;/</.]     We  are  going. 

N//v/f/.  Yes — that  is — if  we  have  heard  the  last 
you  have  to  say— 

/><//.  Well,  I  don't  believe  in  straining  at  a 
gnat — Call  it  10,000 — and  have  done. 

Kill.     Ten  thousand  peanuts. 

Do.     Surely,  Mr.  Sullen. 

N/yvff/.     My  seat  cost  me  that — 

Thun.     The  terms  are  preposterous. 

Do.  and  Bun.  [PIc<i<Hii<i]  Now,  Mr.  Thimble — 
Mr.  Thimble. 

I'll  iin.  [Impatiently.]  Don't  claw  me,  please — 
I  know  a  thing  or  two,  I  tell  you.  Here  is  a  rail- 
way— its  managers  are  taking  in  fifty  millions  a 
year — five  thousand  millions  in  a  hundred  years, 
of  which  a  third  will  be  profit — and  they  want  me 
to  assist  them  in  getting  all  that  for  $10,000. 

Xtrud.  Outrageous!  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Eustace? 


20 


tiiixt.  I  certainly  do.  If  I  were  in  this  sort  of 
business  I  would  consider  iny  vote  worth  as  much 
to  me  as  to  the  railroad. 

Bar.     [('(irelewh/.]     Well,  gentlemen,  it  is  growT- 
ing  late,  and  as  we  can't  come  to  any  agreement— 
Th'un.     We  understand  you— 
XuL     If  nobody  is  ever  going  to  come — 
Do.     Don't  be  so  hasty. 

Bun.  No,  don't;  haste  is  the  most  destructive 
of  all  vices.  But  for  haste,  a  man  might  not  have 
slipped  on  a  banana  peel  and  broken  his  leg;  but 
for  haste  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  foundry 
cat,  the  dog  might  not  have  lost  his  tail  on  a  buzz- 
saw;  but  for  haste- 
Bar.  [Rings]  Marcelle! 

Enter  Marcelle. 

Mar.     Oui,  Madame. 

Bar.  See  that  Domingo  delivers  these  five 
notes  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  to  Congress- 
men Parsnip,  Onion,  Pumpkin,  Squash,  and  Car- 
rot. 

Mar.     I  will,  Madame.  [Exit.} 

Do.     See  what  you  have  done. 

Thim.     WThat  have  we  done? 

Do.     Compelled  her  to  throw  us  over— 

Bun.     She  can  get  Parsnip  for  five  hundred. 

Do.     Onion,  Pumpkin,  and  Squash,  for  three, 

Bun.     And  Carrot  for  one. 

Strad.     Cheap  men  are  dear  at  any  price. 

Do.     Mr.  Thimble! 

Thim.     I  am  bronze — 

Do.     It  is  well  enough  for  vou  to  be  bronze — 


this  is  your  first  term — unfortunately  my  constitu- 
ents have  found  me  out — and  it  is  to  be  my  last 

fiim.     You'll  never  have  such  another  chance. 

Thiin.     Neither  will  the  railroad. 

tint.     Come,  it  is  time  to  cross  the  Kubicon. 

Tin  in.  But  to  show  our  defiance  of  Madame  we 
won't  leave  the  hotel. 

Xinid.     No,  we'll  merely  go  downstairs. 

Thim.     And  play  billiards — Ha!    Ha! 

fitrad.     And  wait  developments. 

Thl in.     Yes,  till  to-morrow  morning. 

[Thitt  speech  to  T hi m hli'.] 

l>nn.  [Imploringly.]  For  the  last  time — Gen- 
tlemen, gentlemen— 

Thini.  [drandiy.]  I  am  a  reader  of  Spartan  his- 
tory. 

AS' //•(/(/.     And  I  am  an  actor  of  it. 

Do.  [Dolefully.]  But  we  don't  want  to  be  Spar- 
tans. 

linn.  No,  no,  we  don't  want  to  be  Spartans. 
\Tliimble  and  Straddle  purposely  lea  re  tin  orcrcoat  and 
cane  behind — then  e.rennt  all.  Mullen  defiantly,  Dodo 
and  ttnncinn  reluctantly  and  wMmperinfa] 

liar.  [WiiixliiHi/  n'riti n(/.]  Well,  Mr.  Eustace,  I 
hope  you  are  not  going — won't  you  stop  and  chat 
a  while? 

7vVs7.     1  must  be  excused. 

liar.     Why? 

Kitxt.  I  could  sustain  no  part  of  the  conversa- 
tion— I  have  just  heard  and  seen  enough  to  make 
me  dumb  for  the  rest  of  my  life. 

liar.     You  are  foolish. 

Kitxt.     1  have  been  foolish  to  believe  in  my  fel- 


22 


low-man,  perhaps.  So  this  is  all  Bunker  Hill  and 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  signify  in  the 
end — is  it?  Poor,  poor  humanity,  forever  grasp- 
ing at  the  stars,  and  forever  clutching  dead  ashes. 

liar.     You  are  sad. 

Vast.  Yes,  I  am  sad  to  find  the  glorious  divin- 
ity I  have  worshipped  is  but  a  wooden  idol,  that 
may  be  pierced  through  and  through,  or  broken 
into  splinters  by  a  few  nasty  spit-balls  of  dirt  and 
of  gold. 

Bar.  I  see  you  are  in  no  mood  to  be  enter- 
tained— therefore  I  will  not  detain  you.  Let  us 
hope  on  some  other  occasion — dear,  dear — the  por- 
ter has  lowered  the  gas  in  the  hall,  so  you  can 
hardly  see  your  way  out.  Stop — I  will  hold  the 
lamp  for  you  till  you  reach  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

[>SV/r  doe*  so.] 

East.     You  are  very  kind. 

Bar.  Also — you  may  have  forgotten — midway 
down  the  hall  there  are  three  abrupt  steps.  Please 
take  care.  « 

Eust.     [Boir'un/  sadly.]     I  will  remember. 

Bar.  [Hold*  flic  hi /y//>  up  for  <i  irhite,  then  c<»tn,\ 
forward — sds  it  on  the  table,  and  then  sits  down — re- 
mains preoccupied  a  feiv  seconds.  Music.] 

Bar.  Oh,  that  I  had  met  such  a  man  in  my 
young  day.  My  Natalie  would  not  then  be 
ashamed  to  own  she  was  my  child,  [Cr-uy  Devlin, 
during  this  scene,  has  entered — after  pausing  a  few 
moments,  comes  forward  and  taps  her  with  a  glore; 
she  rises.]  Guy!  Mr.  Devlin! 

Guy  D.  Did  I  startle  you— What  is  the  mat- 
ter— Sleepy?  Why,  there  are  tears  in  your  eyes. 


23 


Bar.     Nonsense  —  you  are  late. 

(in  i/  D.     You  got  nay  telegram? 

Bar.     Yes;   what  was  the  cause  of  the  delay? 

(luif  D.  Train  ran  oft*  the  track;  and  hour  be- 
fore I  could  get  a  special.  What  a  pity  we  cannot 
re-establish  the  whipping-post  —  these  careless 
train  men  cause  such  accidents,  and  accidents 
mean  damages. 

Bar.     You  work  your  men  too  hard. 

GUI/  D.     Only  fifteen  hours  a  day— 

liar.     That's  enough  to  kill  anybody. 

(i  HI/  D.  Yet  for  one  that's  killed  at  that  gait, 
I  notice  a  hundred  step  forward  only  too  willing 
to  be  killed  in  his  place. 

Bar.  Yet  there  are  grave,  grave  complaints 
against  you. 

(ini/  I).  All  from  the  one  quarter  —  Trades 
Unions,  Knights  of  Labor,  and  similar  abomina- 
tions. The  country  will  never  know  true  prosper- 
ity till  they  are  extirpated,  root  and  branch.  De- 
prived of  such  disturbing  influences,  the  common 
classes  will  gradually  sink  do\vn  to  their  normal 
and  natural  condition  of  subjection  to  their  bet- 
ters, and  all  will  be  lovely. 

Bar.  And  the  passing  of  the  "Grinding  Bill" 
will  be  a  long  step  in  this  happy  direction,  I  sup- 
pose? 


D.     It  will,  undoubtedly.     What  progress 
are  you  making? 

[Kn1<-r  Tli  tinkle  ami  Wraddle,  on  tiptoe,  as  looking  for 
cloak  and  cane.] 

Bar.     The  last  batch  vou  sent  me  I  have   had 


24 


here  all  evening — but  they  proved  very  intrac- 
table. 

(iiuj  />.     How  high  did  you  go? 

Bar.     To  ten  -thousand. 

(tin/  D.     Apiece? 

Bar.     Yes. 

(tity  D.  The  deuce — the  rascals  must  think 
they  have  got  me  in  a  hole. 

Bar.     Is  it  not  true? 

din/  D.  Well,  I  admit — it  is  a  matter  of  several 
millions  annually  to  the  company  for  a  hundred 
years,  and  practically  a  clean  sweep  of  two  hun- 
dred millions  more  from  the  government  then. 

Bar.     What  an  insignificant  sum. 

(in//  I).     It  is  at  least  worth  fighting  for. 

Thiw.     [Advancing.]     And  paying  for,  too. 

Bar.     [Ri#i  DO.]     Gentlemen— 

tftrad.  Happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Guy  Devlin.  Never  met.  you  before,  except  in  a 
photographer's  show  case. 

Guy  D.     Do  you  know  these  persons? 

Bar.  Intimately.  [Aside.]  They  are  two  of  the 
votes  we  are  after. 

(tun  D.  Oh!  It  is  a  pity,  gentlemen,  we  could 
not  have  been  introduced  to  one  another  in  a  more 
formal  manner. 

Tin  in.  It  was  hardly  possible.  We  had  about 
finished  a  game  of  billiards,  and  were  going  home, 
when  I  found.  I  had  lost  my  cane. 

Mrad.     And  I  my  overcoat. 

Bar.  And  as  this  room  was  the  last  place  you 
had  frequented — ? 

Thin).     Precisely. 


25 

(inn  />.  We  understand  perfectly — I  am  can- 
did enough  to  own  the  language  you  have  just 
heard  has  put  me  somewhat  at  a  disadvantage. 

Mrad.  For  which  I  am  profoundly  grateful  to 
iny  overcoat — 

Tli int.     And  I  to  my  cane. 

Bar.  [Aside.]  Beware — these  are  the  two  most 
dangerous  of  the  lot.  Let  me  manage  them.  Gen- 
tlemen, there  is  no  call  to  be  sarcastic — Mr.  Devlin 
well  knows  how  to  accept  a  situation. 

Tldtn.     We  are  glad  to  hear  it. 

Bar.  Now,  if  you  will  promise  to  secure  him 
the  votes  of  your  three  associates,  on  the  terms 
already  proffered,  and  pledge  yourselves  to  se- 
crecy in  the  matter,  he  is  ready  to  pay  you  twenty 
thousand  each — just  double  what  the  others  are 
to  get. 

Tliiin.     Twenty  thou— 

Xtrad.     I'd  sell  my  soul  for  that. 

(in II  D.  Don't  you  think  the  devil  would  get 
the  worst  of  the  bargain? 

tftrad.  [(-In I/I i/.]  The  devil  would  have  to  take 
chances  in  the  premises. 

Bar.  It  is  agreed,  then.  All  that  remains  for 
me  to  say,  is,  the  sooner  we  have  the  votes  the 
sooner  you  get  your  money. 

tftrad.  In  ten  minutes  we  engage  to  deliver  you 
the  goods.  Come,  Thimble. 

Thi in.     Yes,  Straddle.  \l-lrcirnt  joi/wwli/.] 

(in II  />.  Well  for  a  pair  of  rapscallions;  but, 
Baromiess,  you  are  a  genius.  I  thought  it  was 
going  to  be  a  case  of  blackmail,  but  you  not  only 
saved  me  from  that  annoyance,  but  ended  by  get- 


ting  me  three  rebellions  votes  besides.     Hail  to 
the  Queen  of  the  Lobby! 

Bar.  We  will  postpone  compliments  till  some 
other  time,  if  you  please.  They  are  returning. 

[Squabbling  heard  in  the  hall.] 

Guy  D.     Already? 

Mar.  It  would  be  hardly  wise  for  you  to  figure 
personally  in  an  affair  like  this. 

Guy  D.  Quite  so.  In  case  of  an  expose,  I  might 
find  it  difficult  to  prove  an  alibi. 

Bar.     This  passage  will  take  you  to  the  street. 

Guy  D.  But  I  wish  to  go  over  the  accounts, 
write  a  dozen  letters,  and  put  some  important  pa- 
pers into  the  safe  there. 

Bar.     Then  slip  into  my  study  till  they  depart, 

Guy  D.     Don't  let  them  keep  me  a  prisoner  long. 

[Exit.-] 

Bar.  I  will  not,  never  fear.  Now  to  make  out 
the  checks,  and  wind  up  the  most  troublesome  job 
I  have  had  on  my  hands  in  twenty  years.  [Mutter- 
ing to  herself  as  she  writes.]  Thimble,  Straddle, 
and  Dodo— 

Enter  TMnible,  Straddle,  Buncuin,  and  Dodo,  contend- 
ing and  remonstrating  with  Sullen. 

Several.     Oh,  come  now,  come  now,  Sullen. 

Sul.  I  tell  you  I  don't  like  it — it  looks  sus- 
picious. 

Thim.     What  looks  suspicious? 

Sul.     Your  sudden  conversion. 

Strati.     There  was  no  other  course  to  pursue. 

Do.     How  could  there  be? 

Thim.  We  found  Parsnip  &  Co.  were  no  bluff; 
she  really  meant  to  substitute  them.  It  was  ten 
thousand  in  IT.  S.  notes  or  nothing. 


27 

Xtrail.  \Ye  really  thought,  under  the  circum- 
stances, we  had  better  yield. 

Do.     I  would  have  done  so  from  the  first. 

XiiL  No  doubt;  you  are  an  antique  at  the 
game.  Your  old  paunch  is  even  now  so  stuffed 
with  plunder,  that,  like  your  extinct  patronymic, 
you  can  hardly  waddle  about  with  it. 

Do.     Mr.  Sullen! 

Bun.  When  I  reflect  that  from  the  icy  min- 
arets of  Alaska  to  the  persimmon  groves  of  Ope- 
lousas — 

Bar.  Well,  gentlemen,  have  you  come  to  an  un- 
derstanding? 

Do.     Yes,  Madame,  I — I  mean  everybody. 

Bar.     Mr.  Sullen? 

tful  [Reluctantly  <ni<l  gr(nrlin</.\  I  don't  like  to 
surrender,  but  I  guess  there  is  no  use  bucking 
against  the  majority.  [All  give  a  comical  sigh  of 
relief.  Dodo  and  Bnncnm  embrace.] 

Bar.  Very  well,  then — there  is  your  envelope. 
[Mullen  tab-* ;  it.]  Mr.  Thimble  and  Mr.  Straddle, 
yours — Mr.  Buncum  and  Mr.  Dodo— 

Do.  Ah,  Madame,  these  are  the  kind  of  love 
notes  I  like  to  receive.  [Puts  bis  into  a  note-book.] 
In  remembrance  of  you,  I  will  carry  it  next  to  my 
heart 

Bun.     I'll  sleep  with  mine  under  my  pillow. 

>'>//.  [Looking  at  watch.]  Speaking  of  pillows 
and  sleep,  is  it  not  getting  rather  late? 

Thim.  Yes;  we  must  be  really  going.  So, 
Madame,  with  billions  of  thanks,  regards  and 
blessings — 

Bar.     Fie,  fie,  do  you  think  I  am  going  to  let 


28 


you  off  like  this — [Kinas;  Doinhtao  appears.]— 
after  the  exciting  evening  we  have  had?  Before 
leaving  you  must  partake  of  a  little  supper  I  have 
prepared  for  you  in  No.  16.  When  you  are 
through  you  will  find  carriages  at  the  hotel  door 
to  take  you  home.  See  to  everything,  Domingo. 

Doni.     Yes,  my  lady. 

Do.     Baronness,  you  are  a  trump. 

>S7w<7.     You  are  going  to  join  us? 

Bar.  I  have  not  had  three  hours'  rest  in  a 
week.  If  you  would  be  so  good  as  to  excuse  me — 

Tlilnt.     I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  submit. 

Dom.     All  is  ready,  gentlemen. 

Bar.  As  a  parting  favor,  I  hope  you  will  not 
spare  the  champagne. 

Thim.  No  danger!  And  the  first  bottle  shall 
be  a  bumper  to  the  "Queen  of  the  Lobby." 

AIL  To  the  Queen  of  the  Lobby!  [Ear ant 
clieeriny — Dodo  throics  her  a  kiss.  She  stands  in  the 
hall  irariiif/  her  hand.  The  tftndi/  door  opens,  and 
(i nil  Devlin  enters  as  she  come*  doirn.] 

Guy  D.     The  coast  is  clear? 

Bar.  Yes — how  relieved  you  ought  to  feel.  I 
am  sure  I  do.  The  majority  is  small. 

GUI/  D.  It  will  be  greater — the  Dunderheads 
are  to  come  yet.  These  are  a  class  of  ^people  who 
are  never  bought,  because  they  have  not  brains 
enough  to  sell  themselves;  but  they  always  take  to 
bad  legislation  instead  of  good  by  a  sort  of  in- 
stinct, on  the  same  principle  that  a  pig  prefers  a 
mud-wallow  to  a  plum  orchard.  All  such  will 
vote  for  us  from  conviction. 

Bar.  I  am  glad  to  find  you  so  sanguine.  There 
is  nothing  further  for  us  to  confer  about  to-night? 


29 


I).  No;  and  you  look  tired.  Allow  me  to 
conduct  you  to — 

Bar.     You  are  going  to  remain? 

(iiii/  D.  Yes;  I  have  much  to  do,  and  1  never 
work  so  well  as  in  this  cosy  little  nook  of  yours. 

Bnr.  There's  the  key,  then — you  may  have  oc- 
casion to  open  the  safe. 

Guy  D.     True. 

Bar.  When  you  go,  don't  forget  the  catch  on 
the  hall  door,  [Pointing  to  flic  mir  door.] 

(ini/  D.  No;  I  won't.  [Laughter,  nierr'niu'nt, 
and  the  popping  of  eltampagne  rorks  heard.] 

Bar.  The  patriots  are  having  quite  a  '* Fourth 
of  July." 

(in i/  I).  Yes,  dang'in;  and  it  is  I  who  am  pay- 
ing for  the  fire-crackers.  Bancroft  Library 

Bar.     Bon  soir,  Mr.  Devlin! 

(in i/  D.  [Botrina.]  Ah! — yes — Madame  la  Ba- 
ronne — Bon  sewer.  [Repeats.]  Bon  sewer.  [The 
Baroimex*  /^/.s-.sr.s-  into  her  room,  and  closes  the  door. 
l)<  rlin  panxes,  then  leu  rex  the  door  and  takes  the  cen- 
ter.] Wonderful  woman,  that — wonderful!  Had 
she  been  born  a  man  she  would  have  become  a 
Richelieu  or  a  Bismarck.  [Rubbing  his  hands.]  It 
is  getting  chilly — let  me  put  a  stick  of  wood  on  the 
fire.  [Does  so;  then  hikes  his  sent  behind  the  desk, 
and  begins  to  irork — assorting,  reading,  signing 
documents,  all  the  while  soliloquizing  irith  himself. 
Mullen  appears  at  the  end.]  Wonder  if  I  shall  ever 
be  used  for  a  stick  of  wood?  The  preachers  say 
some  hard  things  of  the  fate  reserved  for  sinners. 
But,  pshaw!  I'm  no  sinner — never  knew  what  it 
was  to  do  a  dishonest  action — not  since  I  was 


born.  I  have  always  found,  in  fact,  honesty  is  the 
best  policy.  It  has  ever  been  a  mystery  to  me  how 
some  unfortunates  could  be  so  stupid  to  take 
chances  of  the  penitentiary  by  stealing  a  second- 
hand coat  or  robbing  a  melon  patch.  We  cannot 
all  be  constituted  alike,  I  suppose.  It  is  not  every 
man  that  is  born  with  the  judgment  or  the  con- 
science of  (luy  Dev—  [tiees  Mullen.]  Sir — 

SiiL     Don't  be  alarmed. 

GUI/  D.     What  does  this  mean? 

XtiL  Nothing — except  I  came  here  to  see  the 
Baronness.  I  find  you  in  her  place — so  much  the 
better. 

Guy  D.     I  do  not  wish  to  be  disturbed. 

8ul.  And  I  propose  taking  measures  that  will 
prevent  such  an  annoyance,  sir.  [Goes  to  rear — 
shuts — locks  the  door — puts  key  into  Ms  pocket,  and 
comes  forward.] 

Guy  D.     Your  methods  are  very  singular. 

Sul  They  will  be  thoroughly  understood  be- 
fore I  leave  here. 

Guy  D.  Might  I  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  who  and 
what  you  are? 

Sul  Certainly — there  is  no  secret  about  either 
fact.  My  name  is  Wilder  T.  Sullen,  and  I  am  a 
member  of  the  present  Lower  House. 

Guy  D.     A  new  member,  I  presume? 

Snl.     Yes — this  is  my  first  term. 

Guy  D.  That  accounts  for  my  not  recognizing 
your  name. 

Sul.  Strange — I've  been  told  you  knew  the 
names  of  all  the  members  of  both  Houses  by 
heart. 


31 


Gin/  />.  So  I  generally  do— at  the  end  of  a  ses- 
sion. Well,  now,  Willard  T.  Sullen,  member  of 
the  present  Lower  House,  what  mil  L  do  for  yon? 

Xnl.  A  great  deal,  sir — I  come  to  see  yon  in 
reference  to  the  little  affair  the  Haronness  lias  just 
been  conducting  for  yon. 

(in  i/  D.  [/^ci(/niii(/  not  to  iiml<'rxt<in<l.\  What 
little  affair?  . 

SuL  You  know  very  well — that  relating  to  the 
purchase  of  five  important  votes  in  the  interest  of 
your  "Grinding  Bill." 

(iui/  D.  Keally — you  seem  to  know  more  about 
the  circumstances  that  I  do. 

I  ought  to,  in  any  event. 
D.     How  so? 
I  am  one  of  the  votes  in  question. 

(i  ni/  I).  Oh,  you  are — that  puts  another  face  on 
the  matter.  [Aside]  What  a  load  off  rny  nerves— 
I  don't  see  there  is  anything  further  to  discuss  on 
that  head,  Mr.  Sullen.  , 

N/(/.     I  do,  Mr.  Devlin. 

Guy  D.  Did  you  not  agree  to  accept  of  a  cer- 
tain sum  in  return  for  your  vote? 

N/rt.     I  did. 

Guy  D.     Has  not  that  sum  been  paid  you? 

Sul.     It  has. 

Gin/  D.     Are  you  not  satisfied? 

Sul.     No,  I  am  not  satisfied. 

Guy  D.     What  is  the  trouble? 

N///.  The  trouble  is  cheating,  fraud,  and  gross 
deception. 

Guy  D.     Sullen! 

Sul.     You  have  been  catechising  me — allow  me 


now  to  catechise  you.     You  bid  for  the  support  of 
five  certain  Representatives,  did  you  not? 

Guy  D.     AVell- 

Sul.  And  you  were  to  pay  each  one  of  them  ex- 
actly the  same  sum? 

Guy  D.     Granted— 

8ul.  Then,  wrhy  in  the  teeth  of  such  a  compact 
have  you  paid  two  of  our  members  double  the 
amount  received  by  the  rest  of  us? 

Guy  D.     You  do  not  know  I  have  done  this. 

Sill.  I  do  know  it — on  the  very  best  of  author- 
ity. One  of  your  beneficiaries  told  us  the  whole 
story,  but  now  at  the  supper  table.  Having  taken 
too  much  champagne,  he  lost  all  control  over 
his  tongue — yes,  went  so  far  in  his  drunken,  tri- 
umphant glee,  as  to  flaunt  your  check  in  our  very 
faces. 

Guy  D.  [Aside.]  The  cur — the  cur — there  is 
no  trusting  one  of  them.  Well,  Sullen,  what  is 
done  is  done.  You  must  regard  the  incident  as 
closed. 

8nl.     Not  by  a  thousand  miles. 

Guy  D.     What  do  you  expect? 

8ul.  I  expect — nay,  demand,  that  now,  upon 
this  spot — without  delay — before  I  leave  this 
room,  you  pay  me  the  ten  thousand  still  due  to  me 
upon  our  contract 

Guy  D.     Y^ou  are  joking. 

8ul.  Ho!  Ho!  my  man,  I  was  never  more  seri- 
ous or  earnest  in  my  life.  My  whole  being  revolts 
and  sickens  me  at  what  I  have  consented  to  do- 
Vote  for  the  "Grinding  Bill" — The  wretch  guilty 
of  such  a  deed  is  no  better  than  the  accomplice 


33 

who  shares  with  the  outlaw  the  fruits  of  his  crime 
on  the  highway — Vote  for  the  "Grinding  Bill?" 
The  man  who  so  degrades  himself  shall  stand  for- 
ever accurst — Living — his  wife  will  blush  to  re- 
ceive his  kiss — his  children  to -bear  his  name — his 
friends  to  own  his  fellowship.  Dead — spittle  not 
tears  shall  rain  upon  his  tomb;  the  very  worms 
will  avoid  his  carcass  lest  they  be  poisoned  by  eat- 
ing of  his  infected  flesh.  For  him  no  place  on 
fame's  eternal  scroll — but  imprecations — and 
maledictions  deep  from  the  well-fonts  of  every 
noble,  honor-loving  heart.  Men  with  horror  in 
their  faces  will  hurry  by  the  spot  where  he  rests, 
and  when  little  children  ask  them  why,  they  shall 
be  told  for  answer,  in  that  disreputable  grave  lies 
one  who  in  the  distant  past  voted  for  the  "Grind- 
ing Bill." 

Guy  D.     Sullen!    Sullen! 

Sul.  Such,  such,  I  say,  is  my  future — such, 
such  the  fate  I  embrace  to  serve  you — and  your 
fiendish  purposes  of  pillage  and  greed — and  there- 
fore, Guy  Devlin,  I  give  you  due  warning  I  mean 
to  have  the  full  recompense  of  my  infamy. 

tlmj  D.  [Slowly.]  Well,  Sullen — if  you  were 
not  so  excited,  I — don't  know,  but  we  might— 

Sul.  [Covering  Devlin  quickly  with  a  revolver.] 
Stop! 

(in It  D.     Hein!— 

Sul.  Back  to  your  place!  I  know  why  you 
were  edging  over  in  that  direction — you  wanted 
to  give  the  alarm  to  your  minions  to  come  and 
take  me  into  custody.  Now,  I  advise  you  to  be 
careful — the  moment  you  dare  put  a  finger  on 


34 


that  bell,  I  will  send  a  bullet   crashing   through 
your  brain. 

Guy  D.  You  know  what  the  consequences 
would  be — 

SuL  A  broomstick  for  the  consequences.  Be- 
fore coming  here  I  regulated  all  my  affairs  and 
made  my  will.  Let  men  sentence  me  to  the  rope— 
and  Heaven  condemn  me  to  Hell — I  will  always 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  you  arrived 
there  several  months  before  me. 

Guy  D*  You  are  a  curious  fellow,  Sullen — you 
lose  your  balance — fly  off  at  a  tangent  before  you 
know  whether  you  are  striking  at  a  real  grievance 
or  a  windmill.  How  do  you  know  I  am  not  ready 
to  do  you  justice?  I  am  always  open  to  convic- 
tion, and  in  this  instance  I  have  been  thoroughly 
convinced — both  argument  and  reason  are  en- 
tirely on  your  side.  Sit  down,  then,  like  a  good 
child,  and  be  quiet  whilst  I  write  you  out  a  check. 

Sul.     No  check  for  me— 

Guy  D.     No? 

Sitl.  It  will  be  six  hours  before  your  bank 
opens — what  is  there  to  prevent  your  notifying 
the  officials  in  the  meanwhile  against  cashing  that 
check  on  the  ground  it  was  extorted  from  you  by 
violence? 

Guy  D.  What  am  I  to  do,  then?  No  man,  how- 
ever rich,  is  in  the  habit  of  carrying  ten  thousand 
dollars  about  with  him  in  his  pocket  book. 

Sul.  You  have  the  money  convenient,  all  the 
same. 

Guy  D.     Have  I — where? 

8ul.     In  a  safe  behind  that  screen. 


35 

Guy  D.     You  know  of  that,  too? 

tinl.     As  I  know  of  many  other  things— 

GUI/  D.  Well,  Sullen,  I'd  like  to  oblige  you,  but 
this  safe  belongs  to  the  Baronness;  it  would  not 
be  proper  for  me  to  open  it  without  her  permis- 
sion, and  as  for  touching  her  money— 

tiul.  None  of  that  poppy-cock,  Devlin.  The 
money  belongs  to  you ;  it  is  only  deposited  here  to 
enable  your  agent,  the  Baronness,  to  make  all  pay- 
ments in  her  own  name,  and  so  divert  suspicion 
from  yourself. 

(fin/  D.  [Rising  and  sin  U  ing.]  Decidedly,  Sul- 
len ;  you  will  be  a  success  in  Congress. 

tiul.     Why? 

(iu u  D.  Because  you  have  a  knack  of  overrul- 
ing the  chair.  [Opens  the  safe.] 

$1*7.  I  am  happy  to  learn  you  have  become  cog- 
nizant of  the  fact. 

(iiiy  D.  [Muttering  to  himself,  with  a  package  of 
bills  in  his  hand.]  Let  me  see,  now.  I  must  make 
no*  mistake — one — two — three,  four,  five — six, 
seven  —  eight  —  [Pause.]  —  nine  —  ten  —  correct. 
There  you  are,  my  lad — ten  notes  of  a  thousand 
dollars  each. 

Sul.  [Puts  pistol  on  a  chair,  and  counts  the  bills.] 
All  right — I  believe  this  about  ends  the  business— 
I  assure  you  the  matter  will  never  go  any  further. 
\TIinists  notes  into  his  pocket,  after  that  the  pistol^- 
I  a  Ices  out  key — open*  1hc  rear  door,  and  is  about  pass- 
ing out.] 

(Jin/  D.  [He  has  come  forward  in  a  languid,  as- 
sured way.]  I  say,  Sullen— 

tiul.     [Returning.]     Did  you  call? 


Guy  D.     Haven't  you  forgotten  something? 

Sul.     Not  that  I  know  of. 

Guy  D.     Yes,  you  have. 

Sul     What? 

Guy  D.     Why,  to  shake  hands,  old  boy. 

[They  shake  hands.] 

Sul.     Well,  you're  a  good  one. 

Guy  D.  And  you're  a  better — Ha!  Ha!  [Con- 
ducts Sullen  to  the  door,  patting  him  on  the  frac/c.  As 
he  does  this  the  Baronness  slowly  enters  in  a  negligee.] 

Bar.     Mr.  Devlin— 

Guy  D.     You?    Baronness? 

Bar.  I  was  awakened  from  my  sleep — by  some 
disturbance.  I  thought  you  were  being  threat- 
ened. Springing  out  of  my  bed,  I  hurried— 

Guy  D.     All  for  nothing,  you  see. 

Bar.     I  am  sure  I  heard  voices. 

Guy  D.     Yes,  I  was  talking  to  myself. 

Bar.     W^hat  were  you  saying? 

Guy  D.     That  the  "Grinding  Bill"  would  pass. 

END. 


